


the boys all love to stare

by ohmcgee



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, any excuse to put barry in a skirt, crossdressing sort of, light edging, one-sided porn, red is barry's color
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 06:23:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3757777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmcgee/pseuds/ohmcgee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Halloween and Barry forgets to change out of his costume before rushing to the lab.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the boys all love to stare

“I’m here,” Barry says in a rush. “What’s up? Is Cold back? Did one of the metas get out of the pipeline? Is --”

“Mr. Allen,” Harrison says after the papers and files on his desk have somewhat settled, quirking his mouth as he looks up at Barry. “What exactly are you wearing?”

Barry looks down as if he’s forgotten what he’d been wearing and color fills his cheeks. “It’s Halloween,” he splutters. Harrison notes how his blush extends all the way down his neck. “I was. Iris has this halloween party every year and --”

“You chose to dress as a cheerleader,” Harrison supplies, looking ever amused. 

Barry shifts on his feet and tries to cover his exposed abdomen with his arms. “No, of course not,” he says. “Iris does this thing every year where she writes down ideas and makes us draw them out of a hat and whatever we draw, we have to dress up as that. Cisco’s a teletubby,” he explains, though the reference is lost on Harrison.

“Well,” Harrison says, making his way over to the computer. “Red is most definitely your color.”

Barry blushes again. “I’ll just grab some STAR labs sweats and --”

“No, no,” Harrison says. “That isn’t necessary, I won’t keep you long. I’m sure you’d like to get back to your party.”

“Oh,” Barry says. “Okay. Um, what’s up?”

“I just had some questions for you regarding your last patrol,” Harrison says, pulling up a report on the computer. “When communications went down for that fifteen minute period of time. I was going over the vitals your suit recorded and noticed a rather large spike in your heart rate and…” He trails off when he looks across the room and sees Barry, bent over a microscope as he listens to him, the hem of his skirt inching up the back of his bare thighs. 

“Huh,” Barry says and turns around. “That was like, _days_. ago, Dr. Wells. You don’t really expect me to remember that do you? That was like, I dunno, eighty-seven patrols ago?”

He walks over to Harrison’s desk and leans up against it, crossing his arms over the maroon, polyester halter top that came with the outfit, one of the local high school’s name written across the front. Harrison thinks that it might have belonged to Iris at one time. There’s so much skin right at Harrison’s eye level, the pale expanse of Barry’s flat, toned stomach, the cluster of freckles on his sternum in the shape of Orion’s Belt, that Harrison honestly has no where else to look, not that he’d care to. There’s a scar low on Barry’s abdomen, possibly from having his appendix removed, that he suddenly wants to feel against his tongue. 

“I mean,” Barry says, hopping up on the edge of the desk, letting his thighs fall open just a little. “Lots of things get my heart rate up these days, you know?”

“Is that so?” Harrison asks, quirking an eyebrow, and when he sets his travel mug down on the table after taking a sip of coffee, he lays his hand on Barry’s knee instead of returning it to the keyboard. Barry doesn’t so much as flinch.

“Uh huh,” he says softly, spreading his legs open even more, and Harrison takes that as the invitation it is, sliding his hand up Barry’s knee, all the way up to the hem of the maroon and gold pleated skirt he’s wearing. 

“Would I be correct in assuming,” Harrison murmurs, “that if I checked your vitals currently, that your heart rate would be abnormally elevated now as well?”

Barry swallows when Harrison’s fingers slip beneath the hemline of his skirt and all he can do is nod and bite his bottom lip. 

The skin on the inside of Barry’s thighs is soft and warm under Harrison’s fingertips, only getting warmer the higher his hand travels, and he can visibly see the reaction it’s causing, from the rapid rising and falling of Barry’s chest to the obvious erection straining against the lines of the skirt. “Sure you don’t want to get back to that party?” Harrison asks and looks up, Barry’s blue-green eyes nearly swallowed up by black. 

“Dr. Wells,” he says, his voice breaking near the end, and it’s as much of a plea as it is anything, so Harrison takes pity on him, slides his hand all the way beneath Barry’s skirt and cups him through the matching spandex bloomers he’s wearing beneath. “ _Yes,_ ” Barry gasps and pushes into Harrison’s hand. His cock is hot against Harrison’s palm and so very hard, leaking through the tight fabric containing him. 

“Get these off,” Harrison mutters and it’s endearing when Barry completely forgets he has the gift of super speed and simply fumbles with getting his shoes off then stands up, reaches beneath the skirt and slides them off his hips and wriggles out of them. Or maybe he just likes to put on a show. Harrison isn’t going to complain either way. 

Then Harrison is pushing him by his hips back onto the desk in front of him and getting his hands back under Barry’s skirt, curling his fingers around Barry’s cock and Barry lets out one of the most delicious moans Harrison’s maybe ever heard and pushes into his fist. Harrison reaches up with his other hand and tugs the ridiculous halter top off over Barry’s head, leans in and presses his mouth to Barry’s stomach, to his hip, drags his tongue up his breast bone along Orion’s Belt as he strokes Barry’s cock and listens to his ragged, shallow breathing above him. 

“Oh god,” Barry says over and over, sometimes with his eyes squeezed shut, sometimes staring down at Harrison, his eyes glazed over, pupils completely blown, like he honestly can’t believe what he’s seeing. “God, Dr. Wells.”

“Unless this is some student/teacher fantasy you’re trying to enact,” Harrison says with a slight smirk. “And honestly, I believe we’ve already filled our quota for the night, call me Harrison.”

“ _Harrison_ ,” Barry groans as Harrison pushes his skirt up and takes him in his mouth. He feels Barry’s hands tangle in his hair, not urging, only like he needs something to ground him, something to hold onto like he’s afraid he might slip away. “Oh fuck, oh my god. That’s…”

Barry’s words dissolve into moans and gasps, broken whimpers and filthy, pornographic sounds that Harrison commits to memory the same way he does with any important piece of information. He memorizes the way Barry feels in his mouth, hot and heavy, the way he tastes, salty and clean, like the ocean, and the intoxicating way he smells, like want and need and desperation. His breathing is getting more shallow and the little thrusts of his hips and the fingers tightening in Harrison’s hair tell Harrison he’s close. Barry sounds like he’s begging with every breath and Harrison wants nothing more than to kick the stupid chair away and bury himself inside of Barry, give the boy what he so desperately needs, fuck him on his desk, up against the wall, on every surface imaginable, just completely wreck the lab the same way he wants to wreck Barry Allen. 

But he can’t do that.

Instead he drives Barry to the edge with his mouth and his hand, pulls back and waits for him to collect himself, then does it again and again, keeps bringing him _this_ close to that blissful release then stops just when he sees the muscles in his stomach start to bunch together, when Barry stops making any noises at all in anticipation, until he’s shaking and sweating, grabbing at Harrison’s hair and face, his shoulders, anywhere he can get his hands on him.

“Dr. Wells _please_ ,” he begs, his eyes wet with tears. “Please, I can’t, I have to --”

But Harrison doesn’t want to stop, doesn’t want this to be over yet. Barry’s never been so beautiful before, laid out before him, undone from his hands and his mouth, _begging._ He’s not ready to let that go. 

“You’re doing so good,” he murmurs, lightly dragging the tips of his fingers down Barry’s cock, smearing them through the beads of precome now dripping from the head, and brings them to his mouth to taste.

“Oh my god,” Barry groans and it sounds like it comes from his _toes._

“Besides, you deserve this,” Harrison says, flicking his tongue out across the slit, feeling Barry’s body jerk beneath his hands. “Coming in here, flaunting yourself as if you didn’t know exactly what I was going to do to you.”

He squeezes Barry’s balls roughly in one hand and Barry chokes out a moan. 

“You could have easily changed before you ran over,” he says, pushing a slick finger behind Barry’s balls and watching his eyes roll back into his head, his cock twitching and leaking against his belly. “You could have quickly changed as soon as you got here and realized what you still had on.”

Harrison leans his head down to mouth at Barry’s balls, his finger massaging the sensitive area behind them. Barry is nothing but breathy moans and whimpers that sound more like sobs than anything else above him, looks completely and utterly debauched, leaning back on his hands as Harrison takes him apart. 

“You could have just asked,” Harrison murmurs, fingers dancing along Barry’s cock, feeling it twitch with each light touch. “You didn’t have to dress like this and parade yourself in front of me.”

Barry’s hips jerk when Harrison’s thumb passes over the head of his cock, a sharp gasp escaping his lips. 

“Not that I don’t enjoy it,” Harrison continues stroking his fingers up and down Barry’s shaft, over the ridge of his head, driving him crazy with each touch, so sensitive now that he can probably feel the whirls in Harrison’s fingertips against his skin. “But you could have had this any time you wanted. All you had to do was ask.” Barry thrusts his hips, desperate for even the littlest bit of friction, the muscles in his stomach tightening and bunching together, his breathing erratic. “I will never deny you, Barry. I will always give you what you need.”

“ _Oh--_ ,” Barry gasps suddenly, his eyes flying open, and his cock jerks beneath the light grasp of Harrison’s fingers, unable to take anymore, throbbing and spilling all over his belly. Barry lets out a strangled cry when Harrison wraps his hand around him and reaches out, curls his hand around the back of Harrison’s neck and fucks the tight circle of his fist, riding out every last aftershock of his orgasm until he’s spent. 

“Jesus,” he breathes out, leaning back onto his hands. “Fuck.”

Harrison chuckles softly and grabs some napkins, cleaning off himself and Barry in the process. 

“You,” Barry says breathlessly. “I want to. Just. Give me a minute? That kind of took everything out of me.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Harrison says, giving him a smile. “Taking care of you is enough for me.”

“Dr. Wells, no,” Barry sits up and frowns. “You have to let me. I _want_ to.”

Harrison smiles, pats Barry on the knee. “Maybe next time,” he says. “I believe you have a party to get back to.”

Barry blushes. “Yeah, I don’t know if I can go back now.”

Harrison reaches down and scoops up the red spandex bloomers Barry had taken off earlier with one finger, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Not without these you can’t.”

Barry’s blush deepens when he catches them. “Dr. Wells, I can’t --”

“See you in the morning, Mr. Allen,” Harrison grins as he thinks about Barry returning to their little party after what they’d just done. “Do tell Iris I said hello.”


End file.
